★ 1 | Bitter ★

2.5K 26 77
                                    

Bitter.
Is what I think to myself, asking myself how someone could be so bitter.

So bitter to look me in the eyes, in a room full of people.


And tell me how useless I am.

"Craig, you just couldn't do it, huh" his voice echoes in my ear and the fatass grabs onto my shoulder. He grips it hard, and I swallow in my breath. I know punching him won't do anything, but something in the way those lines slide off his cocky lips makes me want to.

He stands there, for a minute or two. Smiles and then walks off, I stand there in the middle of the room, clenching hard down on my fist.

I turn around for a second, watch him walk a little closer to the entrance, I bite down on my lip and lift up my hand slowly.

But then I stop, and lower it instead.
I stop because I know no matter how many times I punch the shit out of him. It will all come rolling back down onto me.

Craig Tucker, a troublemaker.
A no goody, exorcist.
Pathetic.

All eyes are on me, everyone's watching me. Watching me hesitantly choke on my words, trying to grab a hold of myself. I'm in a room full of exorcists, yet my eyes look down at my feet.

Ashamed of myself.

And Cartman takes advantage of that, taunting me everyday until I lose my cool. Until they kick me out, ban me from ever coming back.

"Little shit" I muffle underneath my breath, my eyes darting back at Cartmans, who flashes me a geeky smile.

Because I know that everyday ends the same. He humiliates me infront of the one thing that I've worked so hard to achieve. Trying to get me to break.

But I refuse to give him the satisfaction of losing my temper. I got in this program for one reason, that alone being for my father. One way or another, I was going to become an exorcist.

I take a deep breath in and turn around, I'm back to back with Cartman. I hear the entrance open and he walks out.

The door clicks and Mr Mackey looks down at me.

relax Craig.
You just.
You just need to breathe.

I softly smile, despite the heartbreak in my chest.
Because I know the big fat turds right.
I'm in a room full of people who have a bigger shot than me, those who have managed to summon demons, those who have managed to exorcise them.

And me?
For fucksake what have I been doing!?

Toying around with my own book, treating it like a loose sheet of paper. Stretching the spells on the pages and playing the syllables with my tongue.

I've spent months grabbing the pages of my book. Playing the spells over and over for nothing to happen. exorcizing small sized pieces of shits not even the size of a demon.

How? I don't get it.
How do I expect myself to be the greatest, if I can't even get myself to exorcise demons who actually play a threat to my life. I feel like I'm waving a drumstick in the air in hopes that some lion will feel pity for me and bite down onto it.

And I admit that I might as well go insane before I'm even capable of doing something right in my life.
Nonetheless put up with Cartman's pathetic bullshit.

Once again, defeat rains down on me like a curse, pulling against the only strand of hope I have tied towards my father. I feel useless, and nothing more screams that than the faces on my teachers faces. Discontent, disappointment.

Exorcise him! // Craig x Tweek // (Creek)Where stories live. Discover now